


All Nighter

by Katuary



Series: Thunder and Lightning [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), F/M, Flirting, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Dragon Age II Quest - The Deep Roads Expedition, Pre-Dragon Age II - Act 2, Pre-Relationship, Warrior Hawke (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24671581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katuary/pseuds/Katuary
Summary: Shortly after returning from the Deep Roads expedition, Anders gets wind of a planned templar raid on Darktown. Hawke won’t let him face the prospect on his own.
Relationships: Anders/Female Hawke
Series: Thunder and Lightning [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477754
Kudos: 20





	All Nighter

As was entirely unsurprising, Anders was being completely ridiculous.

“Why don’t you just stay with Mother and I for the night then?” Hawke insisted, following him as he finished closing the clinic, “It’s still a mess, but I’m sure you won’t object that the carpets haven’t been cleaned yet.”

“I can’t leave everything unattended." He shrugged, kneeling to arrange a handful of freshly washed potion bottles in a cabinet, "I’d come back tomorrow to find half my potions gone.”

“I could always buy you more.” Maker knew his share of the Deep Roads expedition had already been spoken for. He’d never say anything to her, of course, but she’d bet the restored Amell estate that every copper had gone to the mage underground.

“It would just keep happening if the clinic looked like an easy target. It’s not worth the risk.”

“But it _is_ worth the risk of getting captured in a templar raid?”

“I’ve done this before." He stood and shrugged again, giving her a resigned half smile that made her want to shake him, "I can handle myself.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I know _that_.” It made everything patently _worse_ that he’d been dealing with this on his own so long. At least Bethany had always had her family to protect her.

Up until a few weeks ago, of course.

She frowned for a moment before abruptly brightening. “All right then. If you’re not going to stay with me, I’ll stay with you.”

“Hawke...”

“Come on, I’ll make it fun!” Shit. That could be taken ways she hadn’t intended. He’d made his decision crystal clear on _that_ matter. Even if he hadn’t, he was still mourning. Karl had only died a few months ago. 

She backpedaled quickly. “I’ll bring some good cheese and we can swap bad templar jokes until the sun comes up. What do you say?”

She wasn’t sure what his eyes found when they searched hers, but it must have been convincing. He relented and nodded. She beamed.

“Perfect! I’ll go get the food and be back well before dark. Don’t go anywhere.”

* * *

Hawke returned to the clinic an hour before sunset with the promised cheese, an assortment of fruit, and a handful of crude sandwiches she’d thrown together to be safe. The infamous Warden appetite was no myth, after all, and Anders never ate enough to satisfy it. Or enough at all. Now that she had the means, she wasn’t about to continue accepting the way he neglected himself.

“Back!” she announced, letting herself in to set the basket on a clean cot, “Miss me?”

He turned to her as he locked the last drawer, utterly drained, but he still had a half smile for her, “You were gone less than an hour.”

“So that’s a yes.” She grinned and flicked the bolt securely behind her, “I hope I brought enough food. I’m starving and you eat like a horse.”

His mouth curled into a smirk, “So now you’re complaining that I eat too much?” 

“Oh, don’t be an ass.” She strode to the abandoned basket and hefted it back to her hip, “Where do you want this? I assume you don’t want crumbs all over the clinic when you’ve just tidied up.”

“I usually stay in the back,” he said reluctantly. Apologetically? “And keep the lights off. Draws less attention.”

 _Romantic_. Hawke shook her head and shrugged, “You’ve seen Gamlen’s place. I’m not exactly one to judge.”

”Point taken.”

She followed him to the back of the clinic, awkwardly stepping over a haphazard pile of fallen stone into a room smaller than the one she used to share with her mother and Bethany. Anders’ sleeping quarters were hardly more than a supply closet. A pile of blankets and a single ancient embroidered pillow filled half the space, while the remaining corners held an unlit oil lamp and a wobbly pile of scrap wood with bits of paper and half-filled inkwells strewn across the top.   
  
He probably wouldn’t let her get him a proper desk. Not that it would make any sense; one wouldn’t fit in this space anyway. But perhaps an end table, something with a drawer? Fresh ink, a cushion to sit on, better quality parchment...

”You have that look on your face again, Hawke.”

She tried and failed to feign innocence. “Me? What look? There’s no _look_.”

He leaned against the wall and chuckled, “Of course there isn’t. Just know if a new mattress shows up on my doorstep, it’s going to the next person who needs it.”

Typical. The fact _he_ could use it didn’t register. But it wasn't worth fighting him on tonight. That he'd accepted her help at all was progress. She shrugged easily and set the food in front of his makeshift bed. “Fair enough.” She unsheathed her greatsword and leaned it against the nearest wall before awkwardly squatting in front of the basket, “Come help me with this.”

He set his staff in a corner behind the blanket pile and sank to the bed cross legged. “You don’t have to sit on the floor, you know.”  
  
“You might regret that offer when I get polish stains on your bed,” Hawke warned, shuffling closer on her knees, “I just cleaned this armor.”

”It would add character, don’t you think?” He smiled and patted the space next to him, “Come on. I promise I don’t bite.”

” _There’s_ a shame,” she quipped without thinking. _Damn. Not again._ She took the offered spot and hoped he hadn’t noticed. “So, I grabbed a little of everything. Mother picked up a good roast from the butcher the other day. Took the whole day preparing it, and it _shows_.” She had rarely had the opportunity to cook so richly when Hawke was growing up. The roast was a treat usually reserved for Satinalia in particularly bountiful years. Her mother had already made it twice since moving to the estate.

Anders lifted the corner of the cloth covering the food and snorted, “And I see you’ve made off with half the cheese in Hightown.”

Hawke raised an eyebrow and pointed to herself, “Fereldan,” She lightly poked Anders’ shoulder, brushing the feathers there rather than truly touching him, “...and Fereldan,” she finished, “I think that’s explanation enough.”

He laughed, a sound she heard all too rarely, and took a small wedge for himself, “Fair.”

”I also dumped the entire fruit basket off the counter,” she admitted, rolling her eyes, “Mother has a bad habit of leaving them until everything goes bad. Besides, I _know_ she never eats the strawberries.” She shrugged, “I suppose that counts as dessert since there wasn’t time to stop by the bakery and still make my own deadline.”

”I don’t believe you ever promised a three course meal.”

”True. I suppose I did only sign on to be the extra muscle and cheese supplier." She smirked, fished out a couple napkin-wrapped sandwiches and tossed them into Anders' lap, "But I don't hear you complaining. Come by the estate sometime, and I’ll let you clear out the entire larder. We'll just have to sneak in so Mother doesn't get excited and start planning a dinner party."

The next several minutes were spent devouring the food she’d packed down to the last crumb. Hawke wished she’d brought more. Who knew when his next reliable meal would be?

She would simply have to come up with more excuses to bring food. Easy enough when she kept finding reasons to see him anyway. Even easier when he liked having her around. 

How many hours had she spent helping him here since they'd returned? She was no healer, obviously, but she made herself useful. She could calm nervous children, take symptoms from patients if the line grew too long for Anders to handle alone, or wash and fold bandages when things were less busy. She'd tried her hand at mixing one of the more basic healing potions, but her first attempt had left the clinic reeking of rotten eggs for the rest of the day. Grinding up some of the more stubborn herbs with the mortar and pestle was _much_ more her speed. Still saved him time, but less risk of somehow making the stink of Darktown _worse_.

”You know,” she mused, picking up one of the last morsels of cheese, “I always pictured you just sleeping in the clinic itself. Steal a cot once the last patient leaves.”

He shrugged and swept a few crumbs off the bed. “People show up in the middle of the night. Much easier if I already have space cleared for them. And it looks empty when patrols pass by.”

True. Hawke wasn’t sure a small light would even be spotted from outside the bolted doors. 

“I just wish you didn’t have to hide.”

“You get used to it after a while." He smiled wryly, "It could be worse, you know. Bigger rooms don’t _quite_ make up for templars kicking you awake in the morning.”

Hawke froze. Anders was immediately horrified.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, “I should have thought before I—“

”Just how bad is it?”

”How bad is...”

”The Circle.” Hawke said the word as a curse, “Bethany isn’t safe. I know that. But...” Her words shattered into brittle laughter, “I don’t know what I’m asking, really. If she isn’t safe, what else matters?”

A faint flicker of blue jumped under Anders’ skin, setting his jaw in a hard line, before he relaxed and answered. “You said she passed her Harrowing," he started slowly, "That will help. The templars are generally less strict on full mages than apprentices. There are different rules." His face tensed, and she heard his teeth grind, "In theory."

Hawke grimaced and nodded, rolling a stray crumb between her thumb and forefinger. He was right, of course. It was exactly why Bethany had only written once, and why Hawke hadn’t gone beyond benign pleasantries in her response. Anything could be used as an excuse to justify Tranquility in Kirkwall. They had to be careful, control what little they could.

“She turned herself in to the templars,” Hawke murmured, “I keep wondering if there’s something I said that made her think she’s a burden or—”

“Hawke.” Anders reached for her, but retreated nearly before she noticed. She wished he hadn’t; she could have used a comforting touch.

He shook his head, “Anyone who spoke to you for a moment would know what you stood for. She would _never_ think that of you.”

”I hope not.” She grimaced, “But I could have kept a better eye on her. Asked how she was feeling. I can’t possibly understand what she went through growing up, but...” She trailed off uncertainly, rubbing her arm.

”Bethany is lucky to have you.” 

She lifted a shoulder halfheartedly, “If you say so.”

”I mean it. Growing up with a loving family...parents and siblings who would do anything to protect her? So few mages have that opportunity.”

 _Like you._ She wanted to touch him, comfort him the way he nearly had her moments ago, but knew it would be unwelcome. She moved her hand near his on the blankets instead, offering closeness rather than pressure. Perhaps it was enough that he was no longer alone.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s been twenty years.” His mouth twisted in a rueful smile, “I’m all right.”

”You remember I said you could tell me anything, right? That doesn’t only apply to secrets. Sometimes it helps just having a...friendly ear. If you wanted to get it off your chest.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

That was a ‘no’, then. Gentle, but still a refusal. She wouldn’t push. 

“I want to help, you know,” she said finally, “With the mage underground. I know you can’t involve me in everything, but...whatever you need.” She smirked, “Although, if you’re going to ask for Meredith’s head again, I _might_ need a few days.”

He laughed, ”Only a few days? If you’re able to accomplish _that_ , we may finish our work by the end of the month.”

”Well, damn. Here I was, looking for my next social club, and all my hopes are dashed by my wild overefficiency.”

“I’ll have all the time in the world on my hands if that came to pass. I’ll be sure to send your information to all the best salons in town.” His sentence trailed off into a yawn he tried to suppress in vain. Hawke chuckled.

”You can sleep," she offered, "I’ll keep an eye on things.”

He was shaking his head practically before she finished speaking. ”I don’t want to take advantage...”

”Oh, please. Did you even sleep in the Deep Roads? How many times did you insist on keeping watch because no one else would sense the darkspawn if they came?”

"I wasn't _wrong._ "

"Neither am I." She stood, stretching until her spine audibly cracked, and sat on the floor facing the front of the clinic. She glanced over her shoulder to flash him a wink, "And I'm pretty sure I can out-stubborn you. Besides, I can make up for lost sleep tomorrow. You think I have anything better to do now that I'm a good-for-nothing noble?"

"Liar." He shook his head affectionately, "You'll insist on staying to help with the first round of patients in the morning and you know it."

"And some of us don't have mana to regain in order to properly work in the clinic." She grinned triumphantly and leaned back on her hands. "I win. Go to sleep, Anders."

"Yes, _mother_."

She wadded up one of her napkins and threw it at his shoulder. "Maker's balls, don't call me _that!"_

He tossed the projectile back to her and laughed, not bothering to aim. "Touchy, aren't you?"

"Oh, I'm a _paragon_ of patience. But I do have a pile of these where that one came from."

"Not a fan of nicknames, then? Varric will be devastated."

"No nicknames implying we're _related_ ," she clarified dryly, tempted to chuck the napkin at him again, "If you can't get creative under that rule, you're restricted to 'Hawke' or 'Marian.'"

"You drive a hard bargain."

"Go to _sleep_ , Anders."

He laughed again, warm as a fireside after coming in from the rain, and finally relented. "All right, all right." He swung his legs into the bed and stretched, joints popping as he relaxed. Hawke was about to turn her head back to the door when he smirked.

"After all," he stage-whispered, "Mother knows best."

" _Anders!"_

"Sorry, sweetheart. I couldn't resist."

Hawke's heart missed a beat. She could stand to hear more of him calling her _that._ She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the clinic doors. "You're forgiven," she said, " _If_ you go to sleep."

Quiet laughter behind her, then the shuffling of blankets. "If you insist. Goodnight, Hawke."

"Goodnight, Anders."

**Author's Note:**

> Marian Hawke, Overindulgent Chaotic Mom Friend. 
> 
> I always wished we saw more of the day-to-day in Anders' clinic. Or just more of the years between Acts in DA2. On the plus side, that means more blanks to fill in! ;)


End file.
